He was reading that day, as usual. It wasn't a fancy hardcover book with a nice engraving on the side, but rather, it looked almost like a notebook—black, rugged, and covered in scratches. Despite its appearance, he seemed to be engrossed in its contents. He seemed so captivated.

Lately, I had been noticing his presence even before getting on the bus. It was as if he had become a part of my daily commute. Whether it was at night or in the early morning, everything outside the windows looked hazy. The streetlights flickered dimly and the buildings loomed like shadowy giants. The world outside seemed to be shrouded in a mysterious veil.

The bus was totally jam-packed, way more than usual. It was as if fate had aligned the stars to give me the perfect chance. I toyed with the idea of sitting next to him, which I never would have even thought about before, but something felt different that day. As I stood there, lost in thought, I felt a push from behind, and nearly stumbled into the seat directly behind my crush. The scent of his hair was slightly bitter, like unsweetened tea, but I found it oddly appealing.

It was my first time being so close to him, he seemed so calm and collected all the time, so inside his own mind. I found myself leaning closer to see what he was writing in his notebook. However, as I peered over, I realized that the words were nothing more than scribbles on the pages, something someone would consider handwriting. As I sat there, I couldn't shake the feeling of chills running down my spine. It was a sensation that I had felt many times before, particularly when I was a child and I was doing something I wasn't supposed to.

It's funny how those feelings seem to disappear as you grow up.

Until they come back twice as strong one day.

It gave me shivers, like a bad omen. I didn't care. Trying to decipher the words on the paper suddenly became the most important part of the bus ride. I leaned to the side, playing it cool at first, longing to understand a little more about him. Once again, he seemed completely oblivious to the strange girl who kept trying to spy on what could very possibly be his private diary.

The words on the page appeared to flutter in front of my eyes and change each time I blinked. I rubbed my eyes, hoping to clear my vision, but they only became blurrier. It was as if the words were alive, dancing and shifting before my eyes in a mesmerizing display. The movement of the letters was almost hypnotic. It was a strange sensation, and for a moment I wondered if there was something wrong with my eyes. However, I quickly realized that I was able to see everything else around me in perfect detail, including my companion's reflection in the window to our right.

As I watched him read, I noticed his expression was quite focused and he seemed to be deep in thought, biting his lip. Frowning, as if he didn’t really like what he was reading. It made me wonder why he would choose to read something that he wasn't satisfied with, especially if it was written by himself judging by the sloppy handwriting. What could be the reason behind his decision to read something that he wasn't happy with?

The bus came to a stop. Abruptly.

So abruptly it propelled me to the front and my chest clashed against the metal bar. As I gasped for air, I looked around to see if anyone else had been affected by it, but it seemed that I was the only one. Meanwhile, he barely groaned when he saw his notebook fall to the floor. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, but the words were too low for me to make out. It was clear that the sudden stop had caught us both off guard, and I couldn't help but wonder what had caused the driver to brake like that. What was weird tho, was that no one else seemed to care.

Perhaps there was an obstacle in the road, or maybe the driver had simply misjudged the distance. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but my mouth started to turn dry. Call me crazy, but in that moment I started to get a bad feeling about the situation, maybe if I hadn’t pushed it to the back of my head things would have turned out differently.

Regardless of the reason, it was a stark reminder of how quickly things can change in an instant, and how important it is to always be aware of our surroundings.

I wish I had been.

“Are you okay?,” I asked him, without thinking about it. It was probably the best chance I had on at least trying to get a conversation with him.

The windows in the room started to fog up and I got a chill down my spine. I mean, it was pretty sudden, but I wasn't too worried about it since the weather can be unpredictable sometimes. However, as the haziness of the outside world intensified, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping up on me. It was like time had stopped and I was just there, holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. But, nothing did happen, and it just got quieter and quieter in the bus. I even wondered if he had even heard me in the first place.

And then he choked.

The beautiful boy, with his piercing grey eyes, was now coughing and holding his chest. As he looked up at me with his eyes wide open, I could see the fear and confusion on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

But before I could even get an answer, he suddenly screamed: "What the fuck?!" His voice was loud and filled with disbelief, and he turned so quickly that even I had whiplash.

As I stood there, rooted to the spot, I tried to make sense of what was happening. Was he angry? Confused? Or maybe scared? It was impossible to tell from his expression, a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Did I do something wrong?

I leaned forward, hoping to calm him down.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My response sounded far away from wherever I was, like a mirage. But he just sat there, staring at me with a look of utter incredulity.

For a moment, there was silence between us, broken only by the sound of our breathing. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and I could see that he was still trying to process what had just happened. While I still had no idea what was going on.

“Can you… see me?” He spoke hesitantly. It seemed like he had chosen his words carefully, pronouncing each syllable with intent.

I observed him closely, noticing the way his eyes darted around the bus, searching for something that only he seemed to be able to see. His hesitant mannerisms and the way he spoke made me frown.

“Well yeah,” I responded. It was probably the stupidest thing to answer. “Your notebook. The bus stop. Falling. I don’t know. Nevermind.”

My voice trembled, I could see the color drain from his face as my words reached him.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and tried to find as much bravery as possible to not sprint towards the back row of the bus. This whole situation was turning more and more strange.

Meanwhile, he seemed to be struggling to process the information, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for a way out of the conversation. Despite the tension in the air, we both knew that this was a necessary discussion, one that would ultimately lead to a better understanding between us.

“Am I in early this time?,” he muttered to himself, still looking straight into my eyes. “Is this like, how my inner conscience looks?”

I was too stunned to speak, too confused to move. My mind was racing with questions. His hand approached the end of my hair, and I couldn't help but feel a shiver down my spine. His fingers were so close to my lower jaw that I could feel the tiny hairs on my skin almost grazing them. I tried to muster up the courage to speak, but my throat felt dry and constricted. It was like all the words I had ever known had suddenly disappeared from my mind.

I didn’t know why, but I felt vulnerable and exposed, like a small animal caught in a trap. And yet, there was something about this guy that intrigued me. His touch was gentle, almost comforting, and I found myself wanting to know more about him. What was his story? Where had he come from? As I stood there, frozen and silent, I realized that this encounter was going to change my life in ways I couldn't even imagine.

His words didn’t make sense and yet it seemed like they did for him. He was almost thinking out loud, in complete disregard for my existance.

“Redhead, uh? Weird.”

As I stood there, my face flushed immediately, I bit my lip and opened my eyes even more. I wanted to react, to say something, anything, but I found myself frozen in place. His proximity was overwhelming and I couldn't help but take in every detail of his face.

From the small mole on his right cheek, to the thick eyebrows almost in a straight line, to the gray highlights in his hair that had been so carefully bleached. He almost looked unreal, and for a moment I thought I was dreaming. I couldn't believe how close he was, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he feeling the same way I was? Or was he completely indifferent to the situation?

And then it clicked, I realized what he had said. What the fuck?

“Weird? What do you mean weird?” I jolted back and he withdrew his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The bus came to a stop.

Instead of answering, he stood up, lost in thought and muttering words to himself under his breath. I too rose from my seat, hoping to catch up with him and demand an explanation. But it was too crowded, it seemes like everyone wanted to get down there and it was impossible to move quickly. Before I knew it, several other commuters had also risen to their feet and formed a sort of human barrier, blocking my path to him.

“Hey!” I raised my voice, hopefully loud enough for him to hear me. Not sure about how I was supposed to feel.

“Hey!” He responded when he reached the front door, I was still trapped in between the crowd. “Nice meeting you, redhead!” And stepped out the bus with a chuckle.

I fell on the seat next to mine, I couldn't help but feel shocked and confused. It was as if the world had slowed down and the only thing that mattered was the sound of his voice, which was so low and melodic that it seemed to echo in my ears long after he had finished speaking.

I tried to make sense of what he had said, but my mind was racing with a million different thoughts and emotions all at once. It was like I had been transported to another world, one where everything was different and I was left to try and navigate my way through it all on my own.

He was a weird one, to say the least. But the whole ordeal just made me feel even more drawn to him. Perhaps it was because he seemed so unhinged, so careless about what other wouldthink the second after he opened his mouth. After all, if he weren’t like that our little strange conversation would never have happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, the fear of intrigue that made me feel I was a work of art.

Me, a complete stranger.

So, I was hesitant at first, but I had to admit, I was starting to really like this guy more and more with each passing moment. It was weird, but also exciting, to feel such a strong connection with someone I barely knew. I mean, when was the last time I felt this crazy about someone? Maybe it was a sign that I was ready to give love another shot after feeling totally numb and disconnected for months. As I sat there thinking about it, I couldn't help but feel some sort of curiosity for what the future might bring.

I couldn't help but smile like a complete idiot. I leaned back in my seat and gazed out the window, trying to figure out which stop my bus crush had gotten off at. Unfortunately, the fog had rolled back in, obscuring my view of the outside world. Instead, all I could see were the streetlights below, twinkling like fireflies in a sea of mist.

That's when I felt something poking me in the butt cheek. It took me a moment to realize that I was sitting in the man's seat and that he had left his notebook behind. As I picked it up and thumbed through it, I couldn't help but wonder about him once again. What kind of person leaves their notebook behind on a bus? What kind of secrets could be hidden within its pages? My mind raced with the possibilities as I settled back into my seat, ready for the remainder of my journey home.

I held it on my hands and felt a sense of intrigue and wonder. The leather-bound cover, while still rugged, appeared to be in relatively good condition, suggesting that it may not be as old as I had initially thought. As I flipped through the pages, I noticed the same scribbles that had caught my eye before. Despite my best efforts, however, I could not understand their meaning. It was as if they were written in a different language altogether, or perhaps some sort of code that only a select few were allowed to know.

But it had pictures, sketches of little things that were unfinished. Despite most of them being incomplete, but they still managed to convey a sense of beauty and wonder. I flipped through the pages, feeling the gentle breeze fluttering them, until I reached the last one. There, I saw a stop sign, hastily drawn with quick strokes of a pencil. It seemed to mock me, even though it should have had any reason to do it.

Feeling overwhelmed, I glanced outside and noticed that the fog had finally lifted. The world outside was now visible, and I felt a sudden sense of clarity. However, as I looked at my watch, I realized that I had lost track of time and had forgotten when I was supposed to get down.